Seven Sundays
by Dorchester
Summary: It's another Sunday and Jasper arrives with a new bite mark on his forearm. Carlisle is the surgeon who treats Jasper's wounds every week. The good Doctor is eagerly awaiting this patient every Sunday; but there's another one who craves the Sundays, and that's Edward. Supernatural, E/J/C
1. If I Had One Wish

**This new story is inspired by Extreme's song "Seven Sundays".**

 **The characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.**

 **Thanks for the incredible help to loopylou992 for pre-reading and Alice's White Rabbit for betaing.**

~7S~

A few words from me before we start. This is my first supernatural story, but it's still slash. The MC's are Carlisle, Jasper and Edward and not all of the Twilight characters will be included. Ah, and no-one dies, promise. Well, enjoy.

 **Chapter 1. _If I Had One Wish_**

 **Carlisle's POV**

Call it a coincidence.

Yes, I do work on Sundays. Yes, I know I am a loner. And, yes, I know it's not common to treat the very same patient every week, every Sunday, with the same injury.

Well, not _exactly_ the same injury, if I have to be precise, for his scars appear in different places—but always on his forearms. And always on a Sunday. And it always hurts, so fiercely, to look at those … I would have called them bite marks if it weren't irrational.

 **Jasper's POV**

There he is, his smooth blond hair reflecting the dim lights in the hospital corridors. His stride, ever so wide; his look, ever so determined; his hands, ever so delicate. He's not even tall, and yet, he's a giant. His presence fills the air with meaning, with purpose. He's here to save lives. And if there's no life to be saved at this exact moment, then he's healing wounds.

That's what I'm here for. I do have wounds, wounds to be healed. Just like he has noticed, my recent bite mark needs urgent attendance on this fine Sunday morning.

 **Carlisle's POV**

That's one useless wheelchair. His new wound is bleeding so obviously. The sleeve of his plaid shirt is pulled as far above his elbow as possible, and yet, it's drenched with blood. The nurse is wheeling him into the treatment room; he uses his good hand to enhance the left wheel's rotation and his chair takes an unexpected turn. It bumps into the doorframe; he hisses and curses under the pile of golden curls, which are now hiding half his face, then a smirk appears on his lips out of nowhere.

"Doctor Cullen, can we get rid of the wheelchair, please? Why is it even necessary?"

The voice, it floats in between our standing figures; he has jumped to his feet and kicked the aluminum frame of the chair with a thud. Oh, God, is he wearing those boots again? It's summer, for fuck's sake.

 **Jasper's POV**

"Nice to see you again, Doctor."

He's staring at me, mouth agape, probably incapable of speech at the moment. The nurse is deliberately slow. She's protecting him. What, am I falling in the category of psycho-patient? Am I really? Ah, to hell with it. Maybe I should ask her to go away. Gently. But just before I do ...

"Esme, he's fine. Leave us." His hand dismisses her; she steers the chair out. Bless you, nurse Esme. Leave us alone. Bless you, Doctor Cullen; we are left alone.

 **Carlisle's POV**

I am not a psychiatrist. I'm a surgeon. Is it my responsibility to ask him if he inflicts these injuries to himself voluntarily? Should I alert Social Services?

Iodine, antiseptic, two stitches, a patch of bandage.

This one is mild compared to last week's.

"Mr. Hale." Takes him fifteen seconds to look up, and then he stares into my eyes with his still, blue irises and those pitch black dilated pupils for a whole eternity. "Raise your hand and move your fingers for me." I only register the twitch of his digits with my peripheral vision because I am stuck, nailed into numbness by that piercing blue stare.

His nerves are intact. So far.

 **Jasper's POV**

Am I giving up too much? Will he know? That stare was a mistake, I guess.

He uses his forefinger to check my reflex. His nail traces a path from my elbow, up around my new wound, to my wrist, and then my palm. I shiver, a jolt of electricity running through my arm, my neck, and the remains of my brain. In that very moment, I am helpless.

I'm not bleeding anymore so he sends me out.

"I hope I won't see you soon, Mr. Hale," he says.

I hope I will see you soon, Dr. Cullen. Next Sunday, maybe.

My feet won't listen. I stumble on my way outside.

 **Carlisle's POV**

Yet another Sunday.

"Esme, what do you think about that patient Jasper Hale? Do you remember him?"

"With all due respect, Doctor, do I look stupid?" She has that incredulous look in her eyes, as if I'm on drugs or something.

"Sorry?"

"Doctor, how the hell is it even possible not to remember him? He's been here every Sunday during the last few months. Plus, he's, well, I think he's our best-looking patient. Not just pretty. He's … oh, that would be a personal opinion. I'm sorry."

"Don't be, Esme. Go on." Does she see what I see?

"Um, he's perfect. I mean, his looks. Everything a girl could dream of."

Or, everything a guy could dream of. Good. I'm not the only one who sees it.

"Thank you, Esme. What do you think about his mental health, then?"

"Not my job to answer that question, Doctor. But I think he's not right in the head. Just saying."

"Why would you say that, Esme? Is it because of his wounds?"

"Yes. Definitely, yes. The staff and I, you know, we're betting how long it will take him to bite his own hand off. Or at least get it paralyzed. Should be pretty soon."

"He needs help, doesn't he? Not only a few stitches?"

"That he does, Doctor. That he does."

I look out the window just in time to see him coming out of a taxi at the front entrance. A cloth covers his left arm, and the little bloody spot is nearly invisible.

 **Jasper's POV**

I bet he thinks I'm inflicting those injuries by myself. Nevermind. As long as I get to see him every Sunday.

 **Carlisle's POV**

This whole Jasper Hale thing leaves me wondering.

If I had one wish, would it be to keep seeing him every Sunday? Is this not selfish, considering he's wounded and bleeding every time? Please, Genie, don't come to me right now. Because my one wish would be so narcissistic.

 **Edward's POV**

My smile fades as I look at my reflection. A deep inhale brings his smell back into my throat; my nostrils flare with the ecstasy of breathing him in once more. He left an hour ago, and yet, it's so intense … Magic. His smell is pure magic.

I have to wait for another long week now.

Until next Sunday.

 **A/N** Yep. Until next Sunday. But give me your thoughts now, please.


	2. It Wouldn't Be Hard to Choose

Thanks to:

 **Extreme** for the wonderful lirycs of "Seven Sundays";

 **Stephenie Meyer** for these characters;

 **Loopylou992** and **Alice's White Rabbit** for their precious time and support.

 **Chapter 2.** _ **It Wouldn't Be Hard to Choose**_

 **Edward's POV**

My lips are colorless. My eyes are becoming darker while my hunger consumes me. Crimson giving way to black.

I put on my lenses—dull hazel covering the horror that my irises represent.

It's only Wednesday, four more days to go.

 **Carlisle's POV**

"Stop the banter! Don't you have things to do, for Christ's sake?"

Maybe I didn't need to yell. Hmm, am I a bit too nervous? The nurses step away from the window, dragging their feet in those pristine white clogs. I, in my turn, look out, but nope, there's no sign of him out there. Then again, why would he be here? It's the middle of the week. There are only two squirrels in the yard, quarreling over a hazelnut. _Where did you get it, little fellas?_ I smirk, those two guys are fun to look at.

So much about the nurses' dedication, I reflect. Okay, no need to worry; they're good girls, and there's no emergency right now. I too, for once, have a few spare minutes with no patients and no paperwork waiting for me. Going out seems like a good idea; there's a pavilion under the pine trees in the yard which offers a seat and a comforting shadow where I can spread a few sheets.

The sound of my steps startles the squirrels. Their little pointy noses turn in my direction while their little bodies freeze, the hazelnut nestled in the trimmed grass. One of the fellas looks shabbier and the other seems to be a champion, but I won't see who would win the battle. They run.

I'm all alone, pen in my hand, sheets neatly lined in front of me on the wooden table. Half an hour later, I check the ticks on my calendar one last time. Fifteen. Fifteen weeks with no interruption. I've drawn thorough statistics from his record. Mapped the bites. I even know where the next one will be.

 **Edward's POV**

I do need some color on my lips before I go. There's no lipstick that can make them look natural, and this is why I just grab the first one that comes into sight. Maybe some more makeup to cover the paleness of my cheeks? Ah, here, I have this foundation. Uh, probably that needed to be applied first, but who cares. Shit, I look like a scarecrow. For fuck's sake, I'm a pussy.

Still, I desperately need to go out. It's because I have to buy something for him. I _must_ buy him something nice.

After a short walk in the streets, I see that souvenir shop and spot a nice black leather cuff bracelet with the town crest made of shiny silver. It resembles the one I'm wearing on my right wrist. Both will match perfectly. I imagine his strong, sinewy forearm; hunger and exaltation swirl inside my stomach at the intimacy of the image, our arms aligned, the little hairs tickling, his softness and warmth gliding over my stillness. I gulp, and gulp once more. God, I miss him.

My wide stride brings me home quickly. I let my body sink in the corner of my bedroom, and my mind drifts into nothingness for days. Memories of kisses and embraces keep me sane. Images of our tangled limbs keep me wanting.

 **Carlisle's POV**

Fuck! How could I? How could I oversleep on a _Sunday_?

There's no sign of the police while I speed up the streets of Forks. And that's good because I am making the best of that Mercedes engine.

I see the yellow rear of a car turning just around the hospital; must be his taxi; he's already there. I run through the parking lot, slam the entrance door, and hurry upstairs. My blood thumps in my ears. I am not that young any more; my chest rises with every elaborate breath. I use my elbow to force the next door open, and there he is. Sitting in another wheelchair, looking so fragile. A crooked smile lightens his face.

"Doctor!" Am I imagining the childish delight in his tone? "For a moment, I thought I wouldn't see you today."

"I'm here, Jasper." My words come out along with a sigh, my chest still heaving with the effort of rushing to him.

It's only now that I notice nurse Esme is already here too, preparing the needles and bandages.

"I mean Mr. Hale."

There's no way I can hide the embarrassment.

"Let's see what you've got today." I hurry to change the subject and check if my assumptions were correct.

The wound is right where I thought it would be. Two inches under his right elbow. There's also something I didn't expect. A leather cuff adorns his right wrist, and the sight takes my breath away. There's something about this chiseled forearm with the contrasting black leather strap and the delicate silver ornament. Mind-blowing.

I just … I just adore this forearm despite the bleeding wound. And I am so fucked up.

 **Jasper's POV**

 _Don't ask … don't ask … don't ask …_

No, he simply carries on with the stitches, and it's one more week that he keeps a stiff upper lip.

This man. How can anyone be so perfect.

On the other hand, Edward is perfect too. But that's unnatural perfection. And this here, this is a living, breathing human specimen without a single flaw. At least, none that I know of.

Maybe, if I see him undressed, he would have a birthmark, or ugly toes, or, God forbid, a tiny penis.

The smirk never leaves my face. The local anesthetic renders a patch of my skin numb, but the sound of the needle, which pierces my skin, reaches my ears.

"Thank you, doctor," I say. I am really grateful, he is so gentle and attentive.

And now, I'm thinking about his penis.

 **Carlisle's POV**

That makes sixteen weeks today. Enough is enough.

"Are you going to call Social Services?"

I hear Esme's steps behind my back, approaching me, but I don't turn around. I'm waiting for him to leave the building; he will appear in my field of vision any moment now.

There he stands, waiting for another taxi.

Taxis … I've been contemplating this thought for a certain period of time, yes. I have someone who can tell me where he comes from. But, of course, this is illegal. And immoral.

"No, Esme." I turn to face her now because his car has already left. "But I am going to follow him today."

There. It's said. And I will do it; who could have guessed it wouldn't be hard for me to choose immoral. I should have known better.

A/N It was great reading the reviews. Really great, thank you!


	3. Seven

**Sorry for being a bit late with this update. It's Monday where I am but maybe it's still Sunday where _you_ are?**

 **So, here's the new chapter. SM owns. My heroes are Lou and Sally, aka Loopylou992 and Alice's White Rabit - thank you, ladies.**

 **Apologies I didn't reply to any reviews. I'm not going to bore you with the fact I was really busy.** **  
**

 **Chapter 3.** _ **Seven**_

 **Carlisle's POV**

Jacob is an old friend. He's the best mechanic I've ever met, and I've met quite a few in my 36 years. He is also the owner of the local branch of Sun Taxi. Am I not lucky? The bitterness of the situation strikes me. Jasper might have chosen another company, but no, he's always using Sun Taxi. So, I really don't know if the devil or the angels are smiling on me right now, watching from above as my trembling hand presses the few buttons on my phone.

"Carlisle?" Jacob's voice is funny; he always sounds as if his windpipe is still controlled by puberty although he is a grown man, a mere couple years younger than me. I smile and shoo away the memories from the times when we were, well, closer.

"Yeah, Jacob."

"Um, nice to hear from you?" His words hang in the air for a few moments while I gather my thoughts. "Hey, man, what's up?" Now he sounds worried.

"No, it's nothing. Look, Jacob, sorry to call out of the blue. I just happen to need a favor."

 **Edward's POV**

Now, that's different. His warm blood is slowly filling my veins, and my lips and cheeks have color. I put on a pair of sunglasses, and it's as if I'm alive. As if I'm not the crimson-eyed monster who feeds on humans.

Hunger, thirst, and lust. They are all one and the same for me; the essence of my existence. The essence of my damned _being_ , ever craving for blood and sex.

I starve for him, again. Goddamnit, he hasn't even reached his home yet, and I'm already thinking of our next session.

 **Carlisle's POV**

Apparently, he lives in Port Angeles. I'd never set foot in this particular part of town if it weren't for the address Jacob gave me: 7B, West Seventh St.

Until now, I thought seven was my lucky number.

It's quite far from the town center; wherever I look, it's graffiti and garbage. Houses with unattended front yards face the road, and the number I'm looking for is no different. There's not a living soul in the street, which is both good and bad. I shiver.

Now, what am I doing here?

With all the courage I'm able to muster, I slam the Mercedes door behind my back and head for the building.

It's a one-story house with a heavy, brown, wooden door. Right next to the door there's a huge plant in a pot, then a window. Careful not to make a mess of my trousers, I climb the pot, holding onto the green branches, and try to take a peek through the glass. There's a curtain but it's not really pulled all the way through, so I can see a tiny part of the room inside. It seems to be some sort of music room; there's an acoustic guitar on a stand, and I can see the woodcarving on one side of an old-fashioned piano. Nothing moves inside, and I question my presence here once again.

This is the moment when the pot shakes and gives out under my weight, shattering to pieces, and I fall with a thud.

Shit.

There's soil all over the place, and of course, my trousers are ruined. I sit on my butt and it hurts.

But, oh, boy, look at that! Ain't that the proverbial spare key? Who is really so stupid to keep a spare key under a pot, right next to their home's entrance? My patient Jasper Hale is one of those people, obviously.

With the shiny little piece of treasure in my grasp, I rise to my feet and brush off as much dirt from my clothes as possible.

 **Jasper's POV**

Sleep. All I need now is some sleep. And I'll be as good as new when I wake up.

I'm graced today with the image of Dr. Carlisle Cullen's smiling face, the last thing I see projected on my closed eyelids before daydreaming transforms into unconsciousness.

 **Carlisle's POV**

There's one time when my father beat the hell out of me when I was a child. It was when I stole a comic book from a bookstore. He made me return it to the owner, brought me home, and took his belt off. He made it very clear: he didn't want to raise a criminal.

But that's who I am right now, a criminal; a trespasser. I'm inside someone's house uninvited.

The dark corridor offers no hint as to how I should proceed with my intrusion. There are several doors to the left and right. Not able to make any choice, I'm about to turn around on my shaking legs and leave when a gentle snore alerts me to someone's presence in the house. The sound is dulled by one of these doors, but it's there, and the next time I hear it, I already know where I should enter.

The brass door handle is cold; cold as ice. What the hell am I doing here, again?

 **Jasper's POV**

My Sunday exhaustion is becoming normal. I'm now used to being drained; I need these several hours of sleep to recuperate before I go on with my routine. But today, I had this vivid dream, unbelievable. Although I knew I was blacked out, it felt so real I could swear someone, a man, was really here, in this room, with me. I heard his footsteps, I felt his hand on my forehead, and I sensed his quickening breath brushing my earlobe. I almost woke up when a solitary, warm drop of water landed on my cheek.

 **Carlisle's POV**

Run, Carlisle, run, my mind screams. I can't run though, because, of course, there are pedestrians now when I step on the curb, and I don't want to look suspicious. One foot before the other, deliberately slow, I reach the Mercedes and slam the driver's door.

Shit, shit, shit.

Looking at him, so peacefully asleep, played a trick on my nerves; I started crying in there. I stayed for what seemed like two or three minutes in the corridor to calm down until my cheeks dried, then I rushed outside.

Fuck me.

It was in vain. I saw nothing; I learned nothing.

And what if he wasn't asleep? What if I met him face to face? Would I have confronted him or just embraced and maybe kissed him, trying to make him talk?

Carlisle, you're an idiot.

I am an idiot who plans for next Sunday. I should be waiting here in the morning, see what happens _before_ he heads for the hospital. Not after.

Then again, why would he come to Forks all the way from Port Angeles?

Finally, it dawns on me. I have asked the wrong question.

Jacob is on my speed dial, just like in the old days, only now I'm not calling him to arrange a date. He answers after the third ring.

"Sup? Did you find your mysterious man?"

"I did. Jake, I need some more information from earlier this morning."

And I learn there's another address, the one I should've been asking about from the very beginning.

It's where he came _from_ this morning.

"Thanks, man. I owe you." I'm about to hang up when I hear Jacob's voice asking if I need help. "No, thanks, Jake. I'm fine, I guess."

I start the engine, throwing one last glimpse at the house at number 7B.

Jasper stands there, kicking aside the spoiled soil with his boot, hands in his pockets, his brow furrowed. Thank God, he doesn't see me. I hurry to drive away, jumping on the gas pedal. The tires produce a screeching noise; that, of course, draws his attention, and now, our eyes meet.

Oh, fuck.

My sweaty palms just can't still and hold the steering wheel properly. The car moves of its own accord, and I'm terrified. I just watch the house disappear in my rearview mirror with his figure standing there in stoned bewilderment.


	4. Sundays

**Hello - nice to see you all again. Thank you for the lovely reviews, they are so so welcome. I love hearing your thoughts.**

 **Thanks to my special ladies, Lou and Sally.**

 **Chapter 4.** _ **Sundays**_

 **Carlisle's POV**

Believe it or not, I don't remember a fucking thing from last week. I'm floating in the vacuum of my frenzied thoughts, my stupid hesitance, and even more stupid bravery. In the back of my mind, in bold yellow letters, flashes that new address, screaming for my attention like a glowing streetlight on a dark crossroad.

It's early on Sunday morning. The breaking dawn finds me in my Mercedes, my hands clawing at the steering wheel, my forehead covered in a thick layer of perspiration and a spider web of locks of my disheveled hair.

The road leads me to a small cottage near the city limits. I spare a minute to observe the neighborhood; it's a desolate district. No one will hear me if I scream. The irregular thought scares me. Why would I think of screaming in the first place?

 **Edward's POV**

Right after I orgasm for the first time, Jasper tells me about the unexpected visit of his handsome doctor.

This is not good. It seems the situation leaves me no choice, but at the same time, I don't want to hurt Jasper's feelings. What's more, at this stage, I don't wish to kill another human.

 **Carlisle's POV**

The cottage is built of old yellow stones, and brown clay tiles cover its roof. I would have thought it came straight from a fairytale if it weren't for the horrible things I imagined to happen inside.

Green leaves crawl everywhere over the walls, and I use the thick stems for leverage. This is the second time in my life I find myself peeking through a window to spy on a house's inhabitants. Sorry, Dad. I am a recedivistic criminal.

From the very first glimpse, my eyes are stuck on the most beautiful view.

 **Jasper's POV**

Fear takes over me when I see Edward's face morphing into a stone mask. His chin squares, eyes half-shut, nostrils flare. I shouldn't have told him.

 **Carlisle's POV**

The two naked bodies before me are nothing less than the ideal marble sculpture. Standing flushed against each other in an embrace, it's as if they are frozen in time with only their palms lazily drawing smooth, wide circles over each other's backs. Their chests are firmly pressed one against the other, broad shoulders nearly leveling. Jasper's cheek rests on the other man's shoulder; the stranger's chin is buried in my boy's golden curls.

Fierce jealousy stabs my stomach.

 **Edward's POV**

His hands are so soothing. They glide over my back, putting my worries to rest, and my own hands mimic their movements. He feels me; he knows I've had an upsetting thought. His empathic self only thinks of comforting me.

He's so much more than I've bargained for.

"You're calm now; I can sense it. You may fuck me," he says in a hushed voice, and I am happy.

 **Carlisle's POV**

They separate, and now I can see how aroused both of them are. Following the other man's lead, Jasper takes the few steps toward the huge bed, which fills half the room. It's covered with white sheets, and I can see it's not made; the sheets are, in fact, a total mess.

As if performing one of those medieval dances, the unfamiliar man lifts Jasper's arm in the air and makes him swirl. Jasper giggles. The other man's bronze-haired head leans so their lips meet in a long kiss until Jasper is made to sit on the bed. The long, perfect fingers of the stranger grab handfuls of Jasper's beautiful hair and align his mouth to a perking cock.

The next moment, the cock disappears between Jasper's lips; I am mesmerized. Continuing that awkward dance, they move in rhythm: Jasper's head bobbing and the other man's ass cheeks contracting, his body swaying, never losing the contact. Back and forth, like a million times, hypnotically repeating the same movement, the bronze-haired man fucks Jasper's mouth, and I keep staring.

I hate myself for not being able to avert my gaze. But at the same time, I don't really want to. My own erection is proof I am a filthy person, a voyeur, but, God, those two male figures are perfection.

The next thing I know, Jasper is being lifted in the air, cradled in the other man's arms, and gently laid on the bed sheets. He smiles; the taller man smiles too. They look so happy together.

I take a moment to drink in Jasper's beauty. Just like I've always known, his body is chiseled, toned, and proportionate. With his legs spread apart and his erection pointing to the left of his navel, he only makes me think of being there, jumping on him, and claiming him. But instead, another wave of animalistic jealousy stabs me when this action is performed by another.

The other man lifts one of Jasper's legs and inserts three lube-coated fingers inside his body. Three. Fucking. Fingers.

Considering Jasper doesn't even blink, I guess he's been prepared beforehand. Maybe they've fucked before my arrival, but then, he would be sore, but I can see he enjoys the ministrations. The fingers move in and out of his hole several times, and, all too quickly, the stranger's glistening cock replaces them. He doesn't use a condom, and my mind screams.

I hate myself even more now. My erection strains my underwear. If I weren't holding these branches, I would be stroking myself, but I can't because I don't want to fall and make a noise, which would alert them to my presence. I also don't want to lose the view before my eyes.

Their act goes on for what feels like more than thirty minutes. They switch positions, at times Jasper is on top, riding the other guy's dick, only to be lifted like a doll and then pressed under his partner's weight in the next minute. The inhuman stamina of the bronze-haired man is impressive; he plays my Jasper like an instrument, filling him, exhausting him, stroking every part of his body, and exerting loud moans, which I hear through the window.

When I least expect it, both performers freeze. In one swift movement, the stranger jumps to his feet, upright in the bed, his head nearly reaching the ceiling. Standing there like a conqueror over his prey, he covers Jasper in jizz. Jasper's body is shaking with giggles.

Unexpectedly, my stomach twists, and I throw up. The remains of my last meal hit the ground from a ten-foot height and splash into an ugly puddle so far from me, I can't smell the stench.

 **Edward's POV**

That man out there … disgusting. I kept calm until now with all those noises he produced, climbing my wall. But now, with this stench … I should get rid of him.

 **Jasper's POV**

"Edward? What's wrong?" It's another shift in his expression. Even more scary than before.

"I have something to do outside. You just rest."

I can do nothing to calm him right now, and I let go. Our time for today will soon be over. I'll take care of him one more time then it's time for the hospital and my next meeting with the good doctor.

I sigh and take a deep breath, waiting for his return. Only a few moments later, he is back, his hands clenched into fists, frenzy in his black eyes.

"Edward, what? Talk to me." That look has me worried. He's never this crazy.

"I … never mind, nothing happened. Come, let me hug you."

I like that. Hugging is good. He scoops me in his arms and carries me across the room. We sit in the armchair. He loves the moments we spend like this together, with me in his lap, my naked butt pressed against his groin.

"No more fucking for today," he suddenly whispers. "Let me taste you and you may go."

I outstretch my arm and let him puncture the skin with his teeth. Right arm, near the elbow, following the established pattern.

"Don't forget your money," he says when he's done drinking. He steps to the corner and falls to his knees. "Go, quickly."

I do as I'm told. I grab my money and leave.

 **A/N: Any questions?**


	5. In A Row

**Thank you for staying with the story!**

 **Thanks for the incredible help to loopylou992 for pre-reading and Alice's White Rabbit for betaing.**

The characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.

 **Chapter 5. _In A Row_**

 **Jasper's POV**

Doctor Gerandy? What the fuck?

The gray-haired man huffs and puffs over my new wound. His hands shake. I don't like him; I want _my_ doctor.

My favorite nurse, Esme, shrugs in answer to my unspoken question. Our eyes remain locked over the old doctor's shoulder for a while.

Where the hell is Dr. Cullen?

"Sorry, he didn't even call," nurse Esme informs me on my way out of the room.

I have this bad feeling deep in the pit of my stomach.

 **Edward's POV**

He is a good looker, I won't deny it. Dragging his lifeless body inside the cottage and leaving him lying on the carpet in the middle of my living room, I feel regret. Why did he need to follow Jasper in the first place? Why did he need to come here today? What are the motives behind this human's actions; is it mere curiosity or some other emotion, like attraction, or sympathy? Or does he lust after Jasper?

I knocked him out twenty minutes ago, now I can hear the subtle change in his heartbeat, and I know he's coming to. Maybe I should just ask him what he wants with the boy.

He doesn't seem to be very talkative though. He opens his eyes and stares through me as if I'm not even there. He doesn't move or speak. I can almost hear the cogs in his brain ticking.

He saw me move at inhuman speed. He must have felt how I grabbed him from that hiding spot of his with much less effort than he could have expected. He must have perceived the coldness of my skin, and if not then, now for certain, he sees the color of my eyes. He sure as hell isn't stupid; he's a doctor after all. I know he can put two and two together, and by now, he's realized I'm not a normal human being.

Then the shell of his stupor cracks, and he yells.

"What is this fucking freak show?" His shoulders start shaking; his palms fly to his face and hide it from my sight. He wails and repeats the same words, only this time, they're very quiet, "fucking freak show." More wails follow.

When I least expect it, he tries to jump and run, the poor soul. I can't let him out of this house. He knows too much for a human, and he is not Jasper. So I grab his elbow and put him back in place, sitting on the floor with my palms pressing his shoulders to keep him still. I stare deep into his eyes where fear gives way to insanity; the shaking of his body has resumed, and still, he tries to fight me. One of his palms closes around my wrist in an attempt to remove my hand; that's, of course, a vain effort. I'm so much stronger than he can ever imagine.

I decide to lift him from the floor and make him stand.

"You can't run, doctor," I hiss into his face.

He answers with nothing but a growl.

 **Jasper's POV**

I'd gladly strangle this driver for the car moving so slowly, but I need him to get me back to the cottage, so I continue tapping my foot nervously and hating the scenery.

Takes forever to be back in front of Edward's door where I knock, my stomach in knots.

Answering my greatest fear, Edward opens the door and lets me in without a word; in his eyes, there's a predatory glint as if he is going to feed any minute now. Doctor Cullen is trapped behind him, and Edward holds his elbow in a viselike grip.

 **Edward's POV**

Trust Jasper to start to beg for the doctor's life. This is such a mess.

Finally, I decide to give him that; I owe him something for all the good times we've had together.

"Okay, he can live but only for as long as you will live, Jasper, and that's seven more weeks, as you know. Now go, and come back next Sunday. In the meantime, I'm going to try and tame this one. He stays with me."

 **Carlisle's POV**

This is insane. This can't be happening.

Fragments of my life invade my thoughts. It was so mundane before Jasper and so thrilling after he came to me for the first time. I know now I was a fool to refuse to believe the obvious: that those bites were not from my world. Somewhere deep inside me, though, I'd known. I'd known he had been regularly bitten by a vampire.

I've always known.

I realize the only wise thing to do is keep quiet, listen, and pretend to obey. I have no idea what this freak wants from me, or from Jasper. I can only focus on these seven weeks until Jasper and I could die. Is that enough time to plan an escape?

"I'll call you Carlisle, and you may call me Edward," he says. I hate his name already. "Jasper is the most lovable person I can think of, but you, I don't know what to do with you. Do you think you can be my sexual partner too? That would be a nice change."

He … I … Oh, my God. He is not asking, actually.

"Okay, strip. Let me see what you look like under these clothes." He finally lets go of my elbow. That spot where he held me is filled with pain now; I know it will be bruised for sure.

I refuse to undress, shaking my head no.

"Sooner or later, you will ask for food, Carlisle. And water. I do have some supplies which I keep for Jasper's visits, but you won't be given anything unless you do what you're told. You see, I'd hate to force you, but you have no choice. You'll give in."

"You'll have to feed too." I speak to him for the first time, trying to show some spirit. There's a slight tremble in my voice, which I will have to learn to rein in. You never show a predator your fear. A predator feasts on your fear, and I don't want to give Edward _anything_.

"I'm a vampire, Carlisle." I know he sees my face change color, although he states the obvious. "I need no food or water, I only drink blood," he continues, "in very small amounts. I'm disciplined; I don't kill for pleasure. What Jasper gives me is enough. As you can see, I have no reason to leave the spot I am standing in right now. And I don't sleep."

"Can we negotiate?" I'm not really expecting a positive answer.

"No."

I knew it.

 **Jasper's POV**

A deal is a deal, and that's what I have with Edward. Makes me sad there's only seven weeks left. Even sadder that Carlisle's gotten involved in my shit now. I've had the time to get used to the idea about my life ending, but for him, the thought must be devastating. He's a decent man, kind and handsome too, would be such a waste.

There's no use crying over spilt milk, they say, so I get back to writing the weekly email to my sister.

 _Hi, Rose. All fine at my end. The new amount will be in your bank account by Tuesday._

 _J._

 **Carlisle's POV**

We have this staring contest for what seems like forever. He doesn't blink, gulp, or shift. I do all three while the collar of my shirt tries to suffocate me. At the end of this, my fingers fly to undo a button and scratch the skin on my neck.

He takes this as a sign I've given up.

"Good. Won't you go on with the rest?" I raise my brow. "The buttons. Go on."

"Bastard."

"Want me to do it for you?"

"Don't." I shake my head. I don't want him to touch me. He's cold. And I mean really cold. He's cold like a carcass and equally pale. I realize he's indeed dead, and there's no blood inside his decaying shell to keep him warm.

"You'll do it anyway. Look, I will ask you, kindly. Will you please undress for me? Now?"

Ha-ha. Playing nice with the captive. Like I said—bastard.

"You're evil."

"No, I'm not evil. Being evil is easy. Being good is easy as well. But I am in the middle between evil and good, and this is the hardest place to be."

Suddenly, he slumps over the couch, burying his fingers in his messy bronze hair.

"I can always make you, you know," he murmurs.

Something in his face provokes the strangest feeling in me; I pity him.

"Let's say I undress for you. Then, what?"

"Then, nothing. I only want to look at you."

Here goes nothing, I decide, and soon, I stand stark naked in front of him. He has kept quiet all the time until now, and he opens his mouth only to make me turn around.

"Nice butt," he concludes, and there's no arrogance in his voice, only pure joy. I can't see the smile on his face but I can feel it. Surprisingly, I'm smiling too. I close my eyes and the next thing I see is Jasper and I standing in a row before Edward, ready to play. My smile grows wider.

"You may dress now." Edward's voice interrupts my train of thought. "I have this spaghetti thing, do you know how to cook it?"


	6. Cause That's the Day

Apologies! I couldn't make it on time, but I'm sure you don't need my excuses.

SM owns.

My Heroes are **Lou** and **Sally**! *mwah*

 **Chapter 6.** ' _ **Cause**_ _**That's the Day**_

 **Edward's POV**

Carlisle is quick with the cooking and eats his … breakfast? Lunch? Whatever. I watch in awe as he uses a white paper napkin to wipe the corners of his mouth clear. When he rises to his feet and abandons the napkin, my eyes are fixed on the red sauce residue coating the white surface; it's so similar to red blood on a white bedsheet.

"What's your deal with Jasper?" Carlisle asks all of a sudden. "Why would you kill him in seven weeks?"

For a moment, I stare at him in dismay. Of course, he wants to know. He's finally asked the most obvious question. But what shocks me is the total lack of fear and respect when he addresses me. Giving it a second thought, I understand his insolence. He's not naive—he's trying to be brave. I am also sure he'll attempt an escape.

"I'll kill you both," I remind him, just to make sure he got it right. "I leave for Alaska in seven weeks. I won't need a human here anymore."

His facial expression changes several times within the next few seconds; I wish I was a mind reader and could get to know his thoughts. This man is interesting, to say the least. He has this delicate nose and the curve of his upper lip is, um, fascinating. Combined with his pale complexion and somewhat transparent skin, his looks could be compared to a porcelain doll from the previous century; funny thing, he's equally breakable. I could snap him in the blink of an eye. But I don't want to, not yet. As I said, he's _interesting_. His natural overbearing posture is somewhat slumped now, but still, there is a hint of arrogance every time I look into his eyes. The way he raises his chin when he speaks makes me want to palm his porcelain cheeks and fill his mouth with my cock. I want to have sex with this mouth; gentle, slow, and deep.

I can't resist the urge to approach him, and I put my palms on either side of his face. I stare in his eyes for a while, the tips of our noses a mere inch apart. Then I lean some more and graze his upper lip with my tongue, just because I want a taste.

 **Carlisle's POV**

It's clear as daylight, there's really nothing human about Edward. He's impossibly fast. And strong. And he's a freak. One minute he tells me he's going to end my life, and the next, he's getting uncomfortably close.

Er, oh, son-of-a-bitch, he sticks his tongue out, licks my lip, and this is _gross_! What's his problem?

 **Edward's POV**

His face is even paler now, reminding me of my own reflection in the mirror. I still have a hold of his jaw between my forefingers, my thumb flies to rub the upper lip I just licked. Maybe I push a little harder than normal; he winces.

"Oooh, I'm sorry, did that hurt?" I ask in hope he'd say it's okay, but he only looks at me with those terrified, darkened eyes and inhales deeply.

"Fuck off," he hisses, and once again, I want to have sex with that mouth, maybe not so gently.

 **Jasper's POV**

I click Send, happy to placate Rose, who's probably anxious, waiting for my message. Only then do I allow my thoughts to drift back to Edward's cottage.

In case he does something wrong with Carlisle—and by wrong I mean inappropriate—would I know? If I knew, what would I do? Am I in a position to bargain? Is there any way I can protect Carlisle from _that_?

My life just got a little bit more complicated.

Once again, why the hell do I worry so much? Carlisle is just my handsome doctor. He can't save my life, he can't save Rose's life, why the fuck do I worry at all?

 **Carlisle's POV**

No way. I will ever become your whore, motherfucker.

"I need a nap," I say, just as he's released me from his grip. I'll probably get fat if the only things I do are eat and sleep. But then, what are my options? I know he never averts his gaze from me. I can't make a move without being scrutinized.

So I take a nap, then wake up, then eat some more, and then go to bed again. The freak always watches. I only have the precious moments in the restroom for myself. But that one doesn't have a window, so, no joy, I can only stay there for a while, savoring the solitude and having to go back to the room where my abductor is constantly keeping an eye on me.

When I wake up on the second day, I decide to exercise.

He watches me as I complete my push-ups, and I see he's clenching his manicured fingers into a fist. He's pinning me with his eyes, like a real freak would do.

 **Edward's POV**

I'd forgotten what it takes to maintain a human's body. He eats, shits, and sleeps—it's okay with me. But now that' he's sweating here on my floor, while pretending I'm not in the room, I find myself totally unprepared for this visual. His ass rises and falls, and his chest heaves when he fills his lungs with air.

Nice ass, up and down. I take a few steps closer so I don't miss any part of the show. Jasper never does such things here; whatever his magic is, he does what he needs to keep his body fit when he's on his own. In fact, I've never seen a human exercise.

Carlisle is now upright then bending to reach his toes with his fingers. The ass is in the air each time he does it. It's okay with me, I can do this, watching a man trying to keep in shape. I'll buy him all types and excessive amounts of food so he'll need to do even more of that bodybuilding.

I'll just have to order it to be delivered. No more walks downtown. No big deal. Oh, and I have to call the hospital, pretend I'm a relative and let them know he passed away on a journey to South Africa or some other shit like that.

 **Carlisle's POV**

Days pass. I'm always on the prowl for a weakness in his surveillance method. So far, there's no crack in the routine. He's my one and only guard, one who never needs replacing as he never needs to rest.

While Edward is more and more amused with each passing day, I think I'm starting to go nuts. And maybe I'm hallucinating, but there's no hostility in the way he speaks to me. Somehow, there are times I forget this creature keeps me hostage and wants to kill me. It's as if I'm his guest; he orders anything I mention; I'm being spoiled.

Each night, I sleep like a baby until Saturday night comes. That night, I have a nightmare: Edward bites me, his teeth sinking in my arm while I fuck Jasper's tiny ass. Then Jasper turns his head and looks at me, and I see he has these enormous fangs. I wake up in the small hours of Sunday morning with the clear realization that Edward has no protruding fangs, and the common misconceptions of a vampire's appearance has nothing to do with reality.

The next realization hits me hard like a speeding truck. I'd prefer the Earth to open and swallow me 'cause that's the day when Jasper will come, and I'll be there when Edward fucks him, and I won't be able look the other way.


	7. That I Spend

**SM owns.**

 **Three A/N's at the end.**

 **Chapter 7.** _ **That I Spend**_

 **Edward's POV**

At the break of dawn a tiny knock on the door announces Jasper's arrival. The usual hint of anxiousness tickles in my toes, and I am about to rush and unlock the door for him, to enter and begin with my Sunday's undoing. Then, a grunt comes from behind my back, where Carlisle lies in bed—now obviously awake—and I know I'll be distracted by Jasper and won't be able to keep watch over my captive. I'll be busy with the boy's body, his hair, his skin, his eyes, the gentle fingers, and even the fucking little hairs on his chest. And later with his gorgeous cock and the beautiful tight ring welcoming my multiple intrusions.

I have to do something with this Carlisle dude. I need to tie him up; yes, brilliant idea.

"Just a moment, Jasper," I shout out to the unopened door and hurry to find a solution to my immediate problem.

I order Carlisle out of bed, but hell, I don't own a rope; I do own neckties though, so three of them become useful—one for his wrists behind his back and two for his ankles, which I tie to the chair's legs. Now, that's a nice view; he pulls against his restraints a couple times only to find there's no escape and shoots daggers with his narrowed eyes.

"Fuck you," he hisses, words I hear at least ten times a day.

"Not happening," I hiss back and go for my keys.

 **Jasper's POV**

Fuck my life, we've got an audience this time!

As soon as I enter, I spot Carlisle tied to a chair with his eyes fixating me, his nostrils flaring. "Good to see you again, Carlisle," I say, only because I cannot think of anything else to be said in a situation like this. The only noise I hear in answer is a low growl coming from his chest. He tries to move against his restraints but the only progress he makes is to shift his butt near the chair's edge, which makes his groin stick out. He shifts back to his former position, redness crawling over his cheeks. He closes his eyes then, which is a signal for me to look at Edward.

Now, Edward is his usual flawless self. His features never cease to amaze me; the unearthly beauty is still incomprehensible for me, but I've accepted that being a vampire has something to do with it. I guess he'd been beautiful even before he got turned almost a century ago; either way, I could just sit and look at him for hours, but that's not what I'm here for. I get paid for my service, and I have to get to business, audience or not.

Edward waits patiently for me to approach him, then he tucks my loose locks behind my ear. His fingers run over my forehead, then over my cheek. The thumb stops at my lower lip, pulling it ever so slightly down, signaling that my mouth gotten his attention. He's a bit hastier than usual, claiming me with a deep kiss, sucking my breath, his hands grabbing the shirt on my back and untucking it from my jeans.

His palms crawl under the cotton material and glide over the bare skin on my back, sending shivers rushing through me. He pulls me closer and deepens the kiss even more, only to break it a moment later. He unbuttons my shirt at vampire speed, unfastens my belt before I blink, then hints I should lose the jeans by tucking his thumbs in my waistband. While I take off my favorite boots and get fully undressed, he's a swirl in my peripheral vision, and in the next moment, he stands completely naked before me.

I'm gently urged to my knees by his palms on my shoulders. "Suck me," he says calmly, and I'm aroused not only by his voice but also the view before my eyes—the cock I've been seeing for the last five months; the cock that feels like mine now.

I'll miss him when I leave this world, I think. There's life after death, isn't there? I wonder, will I keep my memories when I pass away?

 **Edward's POV**

Jasper's mouth. It's heaven. He's good. No, he's a blessing. I can never get tired of his skilled tongue. I watch in awe as my cock slides, surrounded by his soft, plump lips. His eyes are closed now; I know this is his way to focus and feel—feel my needs and impulses. He changes his rhythm, he swirls his tongue, he increases the intensity of the suction, then suddenly pulls away; he licks sticky precum from my tip, and then again, he makes my cock disappear—all of it—in one swift movement.

Even before I think, he always guesses what I'd like most. I've never had such a human, nor vampire. Jasper is so special.

Now his tongue moistens my balls while his palm squeezes my shaft, moving up and down. My ball sack comes to life under his touch, skin shrinking and hairs standing; it tickles and makes my thighs really weak. Jasper tortures me on purpose, knowing how much I'll love it when he takes me back into his mouth, letting the cool air caress my wet balls. I know he'll suck my cock any moment now. I'm getting impatient.

I grab handfuls of his hair, directing him to where I want him. And then it happens —one of my favorite things—burying my fingers in his silky hair, guiding him, forcing him to look into my eyes with one sudden pull, seeing him gasp and open his mouth for me once more. Then I fuck his gorgeous face.

I never let go of his golden curls, my grasp becoming stronger, my movements quicker, and my thrusts deeper.

He has closed his eyes again, which I love. He looks dreamy.

My beautiful, perfect Jasper.

In the next moment, I catch myself looking for Carlisle's eyes. There he sits, frozen in his spot, his eyes glued to where my cock enters the boy's mouth. He blinks often, and his cheeks are stained by tears.

I still have no idea what his business is with Jasper. I can see he's suffering, and not because he's captive; he didn't cry the days it was just us. He's only crying now when he's witness to what I do with Jasper. Those tears will not spoil my pleasure though. I am determined to have the best time when I pay for it. And I know Jasper loves it, too. I turn my gaze back to the magical lips, and it takes me five more thrusts to recognize the beginning of my first orgasm.

When I come, I hear two noises at the same time: one is Jasper, swallowing my jizz. The other is an uncontrolled, loud whimper coming from Carlisle.

Oh, fuck.

 **Carlisle's POV**

An invisible hand clutches at my throat; I can't breathe. It also stops my wail from coming out.

And the freak saw me crying.

He just ejaculated in Jasper's mouth. It makes me sick to my stomach.

Now he surprises me by coming my way, leaving Jasper kneeling on the floor, sitting on his heels.

The next thing I know, I'm lifted in the air, together with the chair I'm tied to. He carries me into the adjacent room, places me in the middle of it, never reaching to untie me. He leans to my ear and whispers.

"With the amount of money that I spend for two hours with Jasper, I don't need any irritating noises, okay? Can you stay still? And silent?"

I nod my head vigorously; I only wish to be out of _that_ room, not seeing, not even listening.

I need time alone to process.

Oh, my God. He gets _paid_. He's a gigolo. A male prostitute.

Oh, fuck.

 **A/N**

1) Thanks to my gorg ladies Lou and Sally!

2) Now, I have a question. Did you spot the **pattern** in the chapter titles?

3) *mwah* of course I'm sorry for the dealy with the update. Now I **NEED** your comments.


	8. With You

Violet Thorne, Rivanna Lück, this is for you!

Special thanks to my lovelies, Lou and Sally.

SM owns.

~~  
This story was on hiatus for over a year. But here we go, it's finished!

 **Carlisle's POV**

It's probably more than an hour until the door is opened, and Edward enters with Jasper in tow. Blood is seeping from the new wound; I can see it clearly now that Jasper gets closer. His good hand scratches at his scalp; he looks at me absent-mindedly and sighs.

"I miss my visits to the hospital," he says. "I liked it when Dr. Cullen took care of the bites. Dr. Gerandy isn't half as delicate." He chuckles, a bitter half-smile on his lips.

"That can be arranged, don't you think?" Edward's figure blurs, and a heartbeat later, he's behind me and my wrists are released. Fuck, he's fast. Ah, look, my feet are free too. Smooth bastard.

"Carlisle, do you think the wound will heal without stitches?" the smooth bastard asks, and of course, the wound will heal; I feel I'm capable of curing Jasper only by looking at him, by the sheer force of my swelling protectiveness, my compassion, my … love?

Love? Is this what love is? Sympathy, and attraction, and being fucking ready to die with him?

"What do you need so you can treat him here?" Edward continues.

"Let's see," I answer. "We need to stop the bleeding. A clean, dry towel will do."

"Off to the bathroom then." My captor, unexpectedly, lends me a hand to stand up. I take it—it's cold, sleek, and clean. Utterly inhuman and revolting. I shake my head and get to business once I'm given a warm, wet towel. There are several clean punctures, as usual, all of them bleeding. I hold Jasper's hand firmly and apply a little pressure over the bite. "Now we wait for the bleeding to stop," I say. "This will be a nastier scar though." Jasper's palm is warm and pleasant. I can't stop rubbing my thumb over his knuckles. I can't stop looking in his eyes, and he stares back and blinks two times. Several long moments pass in silence.

"Maybe I should leave you two alone, huh?" Edward grunts, finally interrupting the awkwardness.

"Antiseptic now," I manage through a startled cough.

"You don't have to worry about that, by the way. My spit is naturally antiseptic." Edward gets hold of Jasper's forearm roughly, lifting it in front of his face, and spits over the wound. "There. What now."

God, I hate him.

"Any type of bandage will do. Just a strip of clean fabric to cover the wounded area."

 **Edward's POV**

For a moment, I entertain the idea of leaving them alone. It's absolutely obvious the doctor is falling for Jasper. Jasper fancies him, too, that's a fact. But, no, what good will it do; they only have six weeks and then they'll be gone.

"May I stay?" Jasper asks, scaring the shit out of the good doctor with his too loud voice. I can see he is determined, and I say to myself, _why not_.

I try a smile. Three's a crowd, they say, but no, not really. It is a good distraction to have some pleasant company, and the doctor behaves quite well in Jasper's presence.

"Yeah, you can stay."

 **Carlisle's POV**

He stays. He sits in front of me, Edward to his right most of the time, and we talk, and talk. I tell him stories from my days in the hospital. How nurse Esme asked me on a date once, and how I had to admit to her I was into men, and how she sometimes treated me to homemade lasagna and mended my torn shirt that one time when a hook caught in the collar, despite the fact I'd never be more than a colleague to her. How I loved the squirrels who played in the green, green grass in the hospital yard. How I looked forward to Sundays lately.

I sigh, a lot. Jasper never sighs, not once. He speaks in short sentences, deliberately avoiding any emotion, and talks about his sister. Of how she's slowly dying, and he pays for her treatment regardless, just to prolong her days, and also she stays in a nice, expensive hospice. He pays the bills. He gets fucked to pay the bills. And he's always been a top before.

Edward is the one to deliver the next sigh. He's been silent for most of the time, but now that Jasper tells his story, Edward seems like he can't stay in one place, fidgets and exhales loudly although he doesn't even have to breathe. Then, his hand flies to Jasper's golden hair, his fingers get buried in the curls, and he leans and places a kiss on Jasper's cheek.

"You may fuck me if you want to," he says softly. Jasper blanches at him and remains with a gaping mouth, as if he wants to say something that simply can't be said.

But I can say it; I can.

"That won't make any difference, will it? We're about to die anyway."

 **Jasper's POV**

Carlisle is still trying to be brave, he's a great man. He doesn't know that I don't care about dying. Dying is just another jump, a transfer into another reality. We all die someday. Well, maybe Edward won't, but us, humans, we die.

My life has been full of meaning; I gave my Rose some precious, stolen years. Soon, she's going to make the jump too, and I will be free to leave this incarnation.

Being fucked by Edward hasn't been unpleasant at all. He's gorgeous, and I like him a lot. It's just this new thing I feel toward the doctor, which bothers me. I'm not sure what I want to say, and my breath remains stuck in my throat until I figure it out.

"What I really want," I say finally, "is to have sex with Dr. Cullen."

Dr. Cullen drops his coffee mug. There are shapeless, brown stains all over the tablecloth.

 **Edward's POV**

Jasper leaves, and I am once again stuck in the presence of a grouchy Carlisle. He doesn't utter a word for the whole evening. Before bedtime, he starts doing his goddamned push-ups again, and I am mesmerized by the movement of his butt.

I wonder who's gonna fuck whom, if I leave them to it.

 **Jasper's POV**

It's Monday, the bank transfer is done, and I'm typing my message to Rose when my laptop pings, announcing incoming email. It's from Rose, and she tells me she's very, very sick today, and she thinks I should be gathering money for a decent funeral.

 **Edward's POV**

He never comes in weekdays. What is he doing here on a Monday evening?

"Can we have seven Sundays in a row?" he asks.

I can't quite get the meaning of his words for a while. Then it dawns on me; he needs money and needs it quickly.

And fuck, we don't even have six weeks now; he wants it all finished within _this_ week. He needs money desperately, and that's that.

"Is it about your sister?"

He doesn't answer, just enters through the threshold, straight to my bedroom, and begins to undress.

Inside, Carlisle stands in the middle of the room and watches him lose layer after layer of clothing until he's stark naked and rummaging for lube in the nightstand drawer.

"Jasper," I begin.

He doesn't listen; he uncaps the lube, slicks two fingers, and heads for the bed. He stands upright and still near the headboard, then leans forward, grabs the headboard with his clean hand, puts his ass on display, and sticks his two slicked fingers in his little, violet hole.

Carlisle falls to his knees.

"Jasper, stop it," I try again.

He doesn't stop. He begins moving his fingers, in and out, in and out. Carlisle's breaths are ragged, hissing.

I'm not even aroused.

Jasper climbs on the bed, his fingers still stuck in his asshole, spreads his knees wide and now we see his balls and the total absence of erection.

With a jump, I'm next to him and pull at his hair.

"Stop it!" Now I nearly yell, he looks at me, and tears are streaming from his eyes, hanging from his incredibly long lashes. He sobs.

"Just fuck me, please." The words are slurred. "Fuck me and pay me. Please."

"No." I can't even imagine doing it right now. Not like this.

"Please?"

"No." I make it sound final.

He collapses on the bed, his slicked fingers leaving two little spots on the sheets. His tears leave larger stains where his cheek lies, not on the pillow but somewhere in the middle of the bed because he's curled and small and shaking uncontrollably.

"I … I have savings, Jasper," Carlisle speaks, finally able to produce a coherent thought. I pity him right now. "I'll give it all to you." Oh, poor soul.

"Just shut it, Carlisle," I say to him; doesn't he see I can give Jasper as much money as he wants.

"Shut it?" Oh, now he's yelling at me. "Fuck you, Edward! I'm not going to shut it. He's a mess, I'm a mess, and you're telling me to shut it!" He jumps and attacks me with his fists and, of course, hits the brick wall that is my rigid body .

"Vampire, remember? You can't just punch me. Takes a lot more to take me down."

He hits my chest once again with his two clenched fists then lets his hands fall helplessly.

"Fuck. What are you going to do now, Edward; look at him?"

Jasper is asleep, clearly defeated by exhaustion.

"I'll be back in two minutes," I say. "I have to find out what happened. You just stay here, is that clear? You run, and I'll find you and rip your head off."

"Yeah. Sure."

 **Carlisle's POV**

I just snuggle next to Jasper's naked body and wait. It's really two minutes, and Edward is back, but I don't bother to move. Maybe he'll be mad, but I don't think anything matters now.

"I went to his place," Edward announces. Oh fuck, that bastard can run. "I found what shattered him—it's an email from his sister. She thinks she's dying; I mean, dying soon. She asked him to collect money for a funeral."

"Shit." I don't want to believe it. "Is there something we can do?"

"There's something _I_ can do."

Edward sits on the bed, next to Jasper's figure, and runs a hand over his cheek.

"I've grown fond of him, you know. I've been contemplating taking him to Alaska with me. And now, it seems he doesn't even want to remain alive. So, yes, I'll do something. Give me your hand, Carlisle."

He pulls me upright, to my feet, before I've realized what's happening.

"Sorry, I need to do this to you, but this time I'll be gone for a bit longer than two minutes."

His fist meets with my temple and darkness falls.

 **Jasper's POV**

I wake up disoriented. I'm in Edward's bed, I realize. It's dark outside, and Carlisle is unconscious on the floor. Edward is not in sight.

Fuck.

I get up, squat next to his prone figure, and try to lift him. Shit, he's heavy. I don't feel strong enough to take Carlisle out of here. I wish I could.

Then a door opens, footfalls come close, and Edward enters, carrying Rose in his arms.

"She's going to be very, very sick in the next three days," Edward says. He gently places her in the bed and tucks her in the bed sheets. "But you can stop worrying about her."

"What—"

"Oh," he interrupts me. "Let's see if Carlisle will wake up now."

Edward slaps Carlisle's face with unexpected gentleness.

"Rise and shine, Doctor," he sing-songs, but the doctor doesn't come to his senses for another couple minutes. He finally opens his eyes with a start and begins to swear and curse in the foulest language I've ever heard.

"Just shut it, Carlisle," Edward says calmly and smiles for some reason.

The doctor is about to start swearing again but Edward presses a finger to his lips and kisses his forehead. Carlisle is rendered speechless, of course.

"I've changed my plans," Edward announces. His body looks more solid, if that's even possible, and buzzing with energy. "I'm leaving for Alaska in three days. You three are invited, by the way. You're all pronounced dead anyway so … maybe a new beginning, away from here, is all you need."

"But … what about Rose?" I'm still confused. She's dying.

"Yeah, I guess she won't be willing to participate in our ménage."

Yeah, well, he's obviously losing it. I'm sick with worry and here he's talking about sex.

"Edward—"

"I'm not kidding, Jasper; I'm totally okay with a threesome."

At that moment, Rose screams. Carlisle rushes to the bed where she's squirming. He places a hand on her forehead and suddenly freezes.

"She's not human any more?"

Oh ...

"Well, I had to …" Edward begins, and I jump over him and begin pulling his hair and smashing my knuckles against his skull. I scream and kick and everything hurts. He grabs my wrists and holds me firmly in place. "Jasper, I had to. Calm down. She's going to live. You won't need to sell your body any more. Don't you understand? Just … come with me to Alaska? You can have your seven Sundays, or as many as you wish, when we get there. Come with me."

"Threesome?" Carlisle interjects. "You mean the three of us?"

Edward nods, still holding my wrists in his grip. "Do you want to?"

 _Please say yes, please say yes,_ I hear my thoughts screaming inside my head.

"Um, actually, yes," Carlisle says.

Rose thrashes in the bed.

I'm still sick with worry, and also, I'll have bruises around my wrists.

"Edward," I say. "Will you please …" I point to my captive hands with my chin.

"Oh, sorry." He releases me and smiles.

"So you're saying Rose will be all right?"

"In three days."

"Okay, then."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"Let's have dinner," Carlisle says out of the blue.

"I have more of that spaghetti thing," Edward offers. "Do you want to cook it?"

"It will be my pleasure." The doctor has a wicked smile plastered over his whole face. "Do they have spaghetti in Alaska?"

Shit. Of course, they have spaghetti in Alaska. They also have Sundays.

"They have everything in Alaska, Carlisle." I feel I'm smiling sheepishly. "We will have everything."

 **THE END**

 **A/N** Thank you for your patience! To those of who followed the story from the very beginning - I love you.

P.S.: Comments are cherished!


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